Difference between revisions of "Logs:Apart"

Lily moderated the sound of her breathing, focusing on making it sound as though she was as fast asleep as Dilan, beside her, really was. It was something she'd taught herself how to do in the past few months - her mama always put her to bed with Dee, but Lily was seven now. She was old enough to stay up a little later.

In the dim light, she could see the shiny remains of tear-tracks down Dee's face. He was sleeping peacefully enough, but it would take someone a whole lot less perceptive than Lily was to miss that he missed his mama.

Lily missed her mama, too. Unlike Dee, she had some vague recollections of previous absences, but they'd never been anything like this. She could remember staying with Aunty Delifa and Delvana when Dee was born, and she'd only been little, then.

In some ways, that had been fun. Getting to play with Delvana, who was older and exciting, and then go to bed next to her, had been fun. She'd resented Dee, she remembered, but Aunty Delifa had made sure she was loved. And that was true now, too: Aunty Azaylia, and everyone else, they were all wonderful. A lot of the other kids were in awe, and Lily, who had never especially courted popularity (being much more inclined to go her own way), still found herself pleased by that.

But this time, there had been a lot of days, and no one had any real answers to her question of how many more. Was mama sick? She didn't think they'd lie to her if she were, but it was hard to tell, sometimes.

Lily no longer really remembered her father, not even a little bit, but she knew he had died. What if mama died? Dee would...

Lily would...

She forced away the tears. Mama was not going to die. Mama was just looking after people who might be sick, and then she'd come home and she'd hug Lily, and kiss Dee's tears away, and everything would go back to the way it used to be.

Soon.

Dee whimpered in his sleep, and Lily crawled towards him, wrapping her arm around his chubby body. "It's okay," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his little blonde head. "Mama will come home soon."

Soon.

It was the enforced idleness that bothered Madilla, as much as anything else (with the obvious exception of being separated from her children: that hurt so much she had to force herself not to think about it). She kept her days full by design, out there in the normal world. Between her work and her family and her quilting, she made sure there was no real time for outright idleness, and she preferred it that way.

Here, there was no work, and no children, and although she'd arranged for her quilting supplies to be delivered, not even Madilla could sew for all the waking hours.

She'd started a new project, as soon as she'd gotten access to her things. These days, she didn't have the time for commissions: her work was slow, and more about the process than the product. with all this time, though, it felt good to get stuck in to something - designing it in her head, laying out the pieces, pulling them together.

It was better than the alternative, which was worrying about her children, and fretting over her not-really-patients. Everything felt like a potential symptom; she had to force herself not to diagnose from afar. She had to force herself to not be a healer, for once in her life.

It was hard.

She'd never left Dilan overnight before. He was still so little-- too little to understand any of this. Lily would be strong; of course Lily would be strong. But Dee...

She'd never gone without seeing her children for so long, and her whole body seemed to ache for them. This, here - this was when she regretted that her children had no father. Did it seem like she had abandoned them, the only parent they had?

She knew they were well cared for, knew that she had nothing to worry about on that front. But emotionally...

How would they be able to forgive her? How was she going to be able to forgive herself?

She tried not to let her feelings show when she chatted with Jo and Leova. She presented herself as calm and composed, no longer pacing, no longer upset.

But she sewed until her back ached, day in and day out.

They'd have to let them out soon.

She had no idea what was happening outside - no idea whether the woman the riders had found was living or dead.

The world had shrunk to the walls of this guest weyr, and beneath her layers of calm and composure, Madilla was beginning to feel as though she'd never be allowed out.